


Loss

by howterrifying



Series: Furtively: A Sherlolly Collection [1]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: F/M, Sherlolly - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-12
Updated: 2017-03-12
Packaged: 2018-10-03 09:20:53
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 483
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10241474
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/howterrifying/pseuds/howterrifying
Summary: A Sherlolly drabble. What if Eurus had lied?





	

**Author's Note:**

> A short painful little post-TFP drabble. :( I was listening to some sad and angry music and this just happened...

**Loss**  
  
John and Sherlock were in a car that was taking them from Musgrave to a hotel nearby, seeing as Baker Street was quite literally in pieces.   
  
“Do you mind if I took a detour?” Sherlock asked John quietly.   
  
The detective was staring pensively out of the window and did not turn around for his friend’s response.    
“Sure. Where are we off to?”   
“Not _we_. Just me.”  
“Oh. _Oh.”  
“_ I need to see her, John.”  
“Of course. I’ll tell the driver.   
  
When the driver brought them to the foot of Molly’s block of flats, John had never seen his best friend exit a vehicle with such haste before. Before he knew it, Sherlock had entered the building and was racing up the steps to her flat on the third floor.   
  
“Shall we head off now, sir?” The driver asked John.   
“No, no…let’s just stay here for a bit first,” John said, keeping his eyes focused on Molly’s windows, “You can turn the engine off.”  
  
The light in her window had been on the entire time, so John waited until he eventually saw the shadow of Sherlock Holmes having entered the flat. However, what John had not expected was the sudden loud crash he heard and the shouts that came from the flat. They were shouts from Sherlock and they made John get swiftly out of the car as he rushed to his best friend. _  
  
_ The door to Molly’s flat was ajar and John could see immediately where that loud crash had come from. A shelf of books had been toppled, and from the look of it, it looked like Sherlock had pushed it over in some sort of fit. John surveyed the room; there were the piles of fallen books, a small potted plant that had toppled from the impact of the crashing shelf, and then there was the crouched figure of Sherlock Holmes. His back rose and fell as he drew heavy, ragged breaths from deep sobs that seemed to shake his body.   
  
It had been a fit of _anger_ , and John knew why.   
  
“Oh my god,” John murmured, “Eurus lied.”  
  
There, sprawled beside the crouched and sobbing detective, was the motionless body of Molly Hooper.   
  
“Bullet to the chest. Sniper from across the building,” said Sherlock, steadying his breathing at last.  
“Sherlock, it's not your f—”  
“Mycroft was right,” the detective whispered through clenched teeth.  
  
Sherlock rose from where he had been kneeling and turned away from the body. His face now registered no emotion in spite of the streaks of dried tears that curved down his cheekbones.   
  
“What about?”  
  
The detective dusted his coat and proceeded to walk out of the flat, refusing to turn back to look at the body behind him, the body that he had been promised would be alive.   
  
“Caring…” said Sherlock as he took a sharp quivering breath in, “…is not an advantage.”  


**END**


End file.
